Turbulent love

Phew! I made it onto the plane this time ;). A tumultuous storm is brewing in my belly as my heart fluctuates between sadness, anxiety and exhaustion; contradictory emotions to reflect this complicated situation. Oh how many times this moment has occurred throughout my life.

Having lived an extremely privileged multicultural existence, one has to develop the ability to adapt quickly to ever-changing environments. It evokes a sense of what yogi’s would refer to as ‘aparigraha’ or non-attachment, which seems an impossible task when investing oneself in new situations and making heartfelt connections inevitably creates attachments. The pangs of letting go, while ‘normal’ are still heart-breaking every time. As I listen to the thoughtful melody of 'Black Sands' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTjF2_-bneM), I ask myself if it’s a blessing or a curse to have your loved ones spread out so far? I prefer to favour the former, although in moments like this my decision wavers. For the last 6 years of my life I’ve developed a pattern of ending up in long distance relationships; becoming another ripple in the technological, new-age wave of cyber love.

Brown Hill Creek

J and the family on our Claire Valley wine tour

In some ways, long distance is a blessing: liberating oneself from the trap of co-dependency, living separate lives with space to discover who you both are. Free from the cyclical routine of monotonous nights at home watching episodes of reality TV shows (although sometimes I crave that)… And then after months of doing your own thing, the countdown comes to an end and the drum roll sounds. The time comes to reignite the flame that’s been on hold for months.

The first few days is always the most interesting as you see the other person more objectively; becoming aware of the small quirks that make up their character and noticing how so much time apart really does distort ones memory. The ‘real’ memories soon come flooding back and the comfortable groove sets in. The joy of sharing easeful banter in the same time zone, allowing ones actions to sing in the absence of words with a simple touch or gaze. Growing slightly older each time round and noticing the slight changes in how you communicate together and develop as people… Soon enough, you merge and a routine develops together.

Our trip to Uluru

This time round, I was lucky enough to connect to my many Adeladian loves: yoga seshes, curry nights, hazy days on the hill, wine tours and drunken dances (with family time in-between of course); taking full advantage of my audaciously long summer holiday in the first few sunny days of an Adelaide spring.

Last curry night

My visit this time was supposed to be brief, but old habits die-hard and saying goodbye always comes around too fast. So (on top of a few other reasons) we extended my flights aand then accidentally missed the one I was supposed to get on (eeeeekkk!) but as a result, we got to enjoy a few more unexpected glorious days together. And then just as fast as Abbot lost his position, the 5 alarms we’d set (so as not to miss another flight) were going off all at once and we were saying our last arbitrary words of goodbye to each other. The penny dropped and landed facedown, the flipside of long-distance... That familiar heartache began its slow, dull thud. My hands clenched into fists and my jaw hardened as I swallowed the uncomfortable lump that was working its way up my throat. The unfairness of the routine and the pain of letting go again made the walk to the gate a struggle, as I tried hard to retain my composure and focus on the task of getting on the plane.

As L. and I were discussing the other day, the cheesy line ‘if you love someone you should let them go’ actually holds a great deal of truth…  To truly love is to release them from your illusory grasp and allow it to extend beyond the barriers of ownership and entrapment. In his book ‘The Road Less Travelled’ psychoanalyst M Scott Peck describes love as ‘the nurturing of another’s spiritual growth’; growth requires one to pass through various stages of suffering to release ones old self – a beautifully tragic process to experience with another. But as a good friend of mine says: ‘always count your blessings’, as the bumpy ride never ends... Aha, turbulence just got real and the seatbelt sign is on. My clinical aeroplane meal has formed a hard, congealed layer in front of me :s and I have just about enough time to fit in a soppy rom-com before I arrive home to Malaysia for some family time. Goodbye to one love(s) and hello to another; gawd almighty, I’m gonna have to top that all off with a taste of cheese ;) :(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l51UfkpamiY)

Seas of yellow

Song of the day: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jfHalX5atA

Rocky roads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxpTx0VDBKw

The sun was beating down on my reddening face as I watched the colour of sand change hue with each hour. My travels have flown me down under for the second time, to catch the last week or so of a 'Strayan winter. There wasn't much wriggle room in-between narrowly catching my flight from KL and waking up in Adelaide... I'd been through immigration and was walking to collect the last of my luggage as the strings of that familiar purple backpack caught my eye, sitting patiently in cue on the conveyor belt. A sense of relief rushed through me knowing the airline hadn't lost anything and the journey was almost over. My body was in a state of flux: half tamasic/ delerious from the sleeping pill that hadn't yet worn off and yet my tummy, swarming with butterflies was giving me bursts of nervous energy and clammy hands. J was standing at arrivals wearing his rasta beanie with a calm smile in his eyes. I gave him a squeeze and felt my heart release all the pent up tension that inevitably exists when you're apart from your loved one for half a year.

It still amazes me how fast humans are able to adapt to new situations, people and places. M put it perfectly when she wrote about having to 'change her rhythm' when her boyfriend joined her on her travels; and it's just that. Another beat comes in and the rhythm changes but the melody goes on. So we both merged back into our old, familiar rhythm. I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat that I'd comfortably sat in exactly a year ago, noticing the subtle changes that had occurred since then...
We were heading off on a road trip through the centre of Australia all the way to the largest rock in the world, known by the Aboriginals as 'Uluru' and named 'Ayers Rock' after its discovery by the first European William Gosse in 1872 (This disparity between local and western ideals continued to reveal itself as we discovered more about the giant...)

First nights camping

The drive was set to take 16 hours (one way) through the raw Australian outback and my lack of a valid drivers licence, meant that task was set for J. After the first few hours of driving, adaptive instincts kicked in and we started to feel comfortable with the hum of the engine and view of the trippy, infinite road through the windscreen; biding time by listening to G's stack of funky CD's,  reading little excerpts from my heavy book 'The Road Less Travelled' (suitable title) and expressing to each other everything that a Skype conversation cannot. The numerous dead animals on the side of the road also started to take on a grim normality: spangled limbs of kangaroos, wallabies and dingo's that had been splattered by the humungous 55m road trains... I didn't quite realise the ruthless nature of the metal bars on the front of all the monstrous vehicles.
Day merged into night and the sky started to lose its colour; our eye lids were getting heavy and yet our systems were snapping into alert-mode as we drove at 110k/h passing warning signs about wild animals up ahead. The bright headlights searched for movement, the road started to look surreal and just as we'd reached a period of seeing no life, a herd of cattle appear in front of the car. SCREECH of breaks, rush of adrenaline and the mission continued... J fortunately managed to avoid any collisions and we made it to the opal mining town 'Coober Pedy' at about 12.30am, driving down a side road and drowsily setting up our 2 man tent on a patch of barren land. The wind was strong, making the task harder as we repressed our paranoia and tried not to speculate about the headlights of the mysterious car that was parked 100m away; all those horror stories about what happens to backpackers in the outback started to simmer in my mind...
But luck was on our side and the morning sun was soon streaming through the tent walls. We poked our heads out to see where we'd been sleeping; my eyes landed on the opal mines and houses that formed a ring around us, we giggled knowing that we hadn't been in the middle of nowhere all along... back in the car and the drive continued (with many pit stops and Farmers Union ice coffees on the way).

Uluru

By sunset, we'd arrived at our destination; parking up at the viewpoint and joyfully stretching our legs. Never before have I seen so many shades of red: from the hot glow of the setting sun to the surrounding clouds, my gaze continued to fall over the magnificent standing giant Ularu and finally down to the rusty particles of sand in-between my toes. With each click of a tourists camera, the colour scheme of the picturesque scene shifted until all that was left was a luminous full moon that outshone any potential of a starry sky.  

Uluru by night

We pitched our tents at the official campsite on a soft patch of grass that we'd paid an extortionate $40 for (although to grow grass with limited access to natural water in the middle of a desert is pretty extraordinary). Fumbling along with our pots and pans, clearly looking like newbies, we got in with the camping vibes. As we stood together, trying to chop onions with butter knives straight onto the countertop (for lack of a chopping board) we soon realised we were fairly ill- equipped for such an organised event, but we managed nonetheless. There's something about interacting and sleeping in nature that has a very grounding effect - allowing your circadian rhythm (sleep cycle) to merge with that of the sun and experiencing the movement of the elements around you.

Uluru from behind

You'd never know it was winter with the way the desert heated up as soon as the sun came out... we took advantage of the hot showers that were on offer &  made our way to Ularu.
The signs at the site were confusing 'Do not climb on the rock!' or 'Opening hours for climbing are between...'? According to Aboriginal law, it was only the most respected elders that were allowed to climb the rock, so in consideration of the tradition, we stuck to the ground and made our way around the longest path.

Black tears

Emu's

Aboriginal dreamtime stories were written on placards along the way; they were all based on native animals and plants that gave certain shapes on Ularu some significance. Beautiful water markings fell like black tears down its sides next to deep crevices where young men would learn to become hunters by observing their elders through little holes in the rock. Chalk like drawings in the lower caves evoked a sense of timelessness; The Aboriginals are said to have existed for up to 60,000 years, having migrated from Africa through southeast Asia. They developed an intimate understanding of the land on which they lived, learning to survive in harsh conditions ranging from below 0° winter nights to 50° summer days. Walking barefoot around the rock where many ancient traditional ceremonies took place was awe-inspiring; I could barely hold my agitation in at having swarms of flies constantly circling my head but to think they were connected enough to adapt to these dry, arid conditions by passing their wisdom down through story-telling... Amazing.

Underground camping

Opal mines

So we did it! We drove up and down one of the biggest islands on the planet; the equivalent of driving from the bottom to the top of the UK and back! We'd watched sunrise and sunset at the magnificent mound protruding from its completely flat surrounding planes. Back to Coober Pedy for an adventurous night of living like the locals do (underground!) and after another 16 hours past beautiful landscapes, pink lakes and wild dingoes we arrived back where we'd started for a curry night with the crew ;) Life, is alright.

Sunrise

 Song of the day: Rough Rider
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFaqJC_tXP8&list=PLl8UdbmjwcGxuhJUxj6Ph0XRV338bFSU3&index=1 —